


Safe and Sound

by Ronja



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Mockingjay, Pre-Epilogue Mockingjay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1533023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ronja/pseuds/Ronja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The start of a new relationship doesn't run entirely smoothly. Katniss is surprised by some of her own actions and emotions, and begins to realize how they affect Peeta. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe and Sound

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is a one-shot I've been working on on-and-off for a while now, centered around two ideas. One being how a person as private as Katniss would feel about her relationship becoming public knowledge and the other being some issues that it seems to me that Peeta might have after what he went through in "Mockingjay". Not a masterpiece by any definition, but I hope it's at least entertaining.

"You love me. Real or not real?"

"Real."

We don't really talk more after that. Peeta kisses me tenderly and I kiss him back sweetly and before I know it the hunger returns and I pull him back on top of me. Half an hour later I fall asleep, exhausted but happier than I have been for as long as I can remember.

I wake up late the next morning, finding I have rolled over on my side facing away from Peeta. His left arm serves as my pillow and I've drooled on it in my sleep but the sound of his even breaths tells me that he hasn't noticed. I sit up slowly and groggily try to rub the sleep out of my eyes. I squint a bit in the bright light that fills the room. It doesn't seem like the early light of morning. More like it's close to noon.

I turn my head and look at Peeta, fast asleep on his back, one arm stretched out across my pillow and the other hand resting on his belly. The comforter only covers him up to his waist but it's warm in the room and he's probably not cold. I can't help but smile at the sight of him like this. His ashen curls are in disarray, probably because I ran my fingers through his hair several times during the night, and his face relaxed and peaceful. There's a small mark on his neck, right at his pulse point, which I paid a lot of attention to the second time around when I discovered he really liked when I did that. The areas on his chest that are covered by skin grafts are hairless but most of his front was spared from the burns and I resist the desire to let my fingers play with the blonde hair that covers part of his chest.

Last night he asked if me loving him was real or not real. I told him real. That one thing I was so determined to avoid at all cost, that I thought I could ignore or cast aside if I ever did begin to feel it, that thing does not seem so scary anymore. I love him. Loving him means letting him into my heart and mind in a way I never thought I would dare to. Loving him means expressing my physical desire for him and enjoying all new sensations and pleasures that feel better than I could have ever imagined. Loving him means not being alone anymore. It's a whole new form of togetherness but instead of being frightened by it I find myself feeling excited to explore what it truly means.

The alarm clock with its digital display of neon blue numbers tells me it's just past ten in the morning. Both of us are usually up early, me to go out into the woods and Peeta to bake bread for our breakfast. Since Peeta returned to the district I haven't slept longer than to eight in the morning, usually getting up somewhere between five and six. It seems so strange that we could have slept in like this, though we did take quite a long break from sleep during the night. I feel thirsty and I very much need to go to the bathroom. As carefully and quietly as I can I get out of bed and walk to the door on the other end of the room.

After I've used the toilet I stand in front of the mirror, washing my hands and splashing my face, absentmindedly eyeing my hands, remembering how they moved over Peeta's skin only a few hours ago. Another smile grazes my lips. I'm aware that I need some cleaning up below the waistline and I grab a washcloth to take care of it, trying to ignore the slight soreness I'm feeling. When I'm done I look up and glance at my own reflection. Something seems different about me this morning, and it's not just the uncharacteristic smile. My cheeks are rosy and my grey eyes seem to have a new light to them. My hair is in quite the mess, having been in a thin braid when I went to bed and then been subjected to Peeta's ministrations during the night. I pull out the scrunchie and try to comb through it with my fingers but I only get caught in tangles. My hair is still in pretty bad shape since the bombing and I haven't bothered to try and do much with it either. Right now I'm filled with a new desire to look nice for Peeta so I grab a comb and work on the tresses until my hair is in something resembling order.

When I tiptoe back into the bedroom I find that Peeta hasn't moved an inch. I stand there for a moment beside the bed, just watching him. Just as I'm about to climb back into bed my stomach growls and I realize how hungry I am. It's not like me to miss breakfast and now it's only about an hour and a half until lunch. I reach down on the floor and pick up the discarded old t-shirt I wore when I went to bed last night and pull it over my head. The thought of going into the kitchen naked makes me uncomfortable. I can't seem to find my underwear but the t-shirt is actually one of Peeta's and it reaches halfway down to my knees, which I deem will cover me enough for a quick trip to the refrigerator.

I walk quietly downstairs, avoiding the step that always creaks a little, and head for the sunny kitchen. I make quick work of boiling a couple of eggs and preparing sandwiches, which will have to suffice as breakfast since we ought to be having lunch in a near future. I fill up two tall glasses with orange juice, a luxury item we sometimes enjoyed in the Capitol and which has recently been made available to the people in the district. I look over at the clock hanging above the door to the sitting room and feel a sudden sense of urgency to get back upstairs before Peeta wakes up.

A minute later I'm back upstairs, finding Peeta still fast asleep. I can't stop the smile that spreads across my face again when I look at him. It's funny. He's still the same Peeta as he was when we went to bed last night, yet at the same time he's entirely different. He's my… lover now. It's such a strange notion, almost unfathomable. I was never supposed to have a lover. I was supposed to abstain from love and all the things that come with it. How did the boy with the bread manage to creep past my defenses and bring me to this place? I decide not to waste any time worrying about it right now. In this moment I just want to be with him and enjoy the happy feeling he's brought to me.

I get up on the bed and crawl over to him, balancing on my left hand while my right hand reaches out to brush a strand of hair away from his face. My fingers then caress his cheek gently which causes him to wrinkle his nose and grunt a little.

"Peeta…" I say softly. "Wake up, Peeta."

Slowly, reluctantly, his left eye opens. When he sees me he looks thoughtful for a second but then a smile spreads across his face and he opens both eyes, reaching up both hands to cradle my face between them.

"Hey Katniss…" he says in that husky voice he always has in the morning. He clears his throat. "For a moment there I wasn't sure if last night was just a dream."

"What made you realize that it wasn't?" I ask in a softly teasing voice.

"You've got a hickey right there." His fingers land on a spot just below my jawline.

"What? No I don't."

He chuckles.

"Okay, no you don't." I lean down to kiss him and he makes an 'mmm' sound before grunting. "Okay, not fair," he says when I pull away. "You've obviously been up to brush your teeth. You've got a head start on me."

I laugh, feeling uncharacteristically giddy. Peeta looks far more in control of himself than I'm feeling, smiling at me with hazy eyes while the fingers on his left hand massage the back of my neck and his right hand caresses my cheek.

"So it was really real?" he asks. "All of it?"

"All of it," I assure him, leaning down for another kiss. "All of it real."

I straighten my back a little and he shifts a bit, using his arms to slightly lift his upper body. My fingers trace a pattern on his chest and he chuckles.

"What are you doing wearing this?" he asks, tugging at my t-shirt. "Take it off. I want to see you, all of you, in the daylight."

I suddenly blush, averting my eyes even though the smile is still on my lips. I hadn't thought of that before but Peeta is going to want to see my whole body now that we've started a sexual relationship. The thought makes me nervous. I have never been naked in front of a boy before and there's a part of me that worries that he won't like what he sees. My body is scarred, flawed, still a bit too thin and not particularly feminine at present. Under any other circumstances I wouldn't care how I look, but this boy, this man, is the one person whose opinion matters, and even though I know he would never let on in any way if he didn't find me attractive, the thought of him being disappointed with my physical appearence is devastating. But I know our sexual encounters can't all happen in the dead of night and mostly under the covers. I most certainly want to have sex with him again, even though I'm a bit sore from last night. I will just have to suck it up and allow him to look at me and trust that he will like what he sees because he loves me like I love him.

Only, there's no way I'll be taking that particular step without food in my system. I give him a peck on the brow and start to move to get off the bed.

"Hey!" he protests.

"I'm starving, Mellark," I tell him, placing both feet on the floor and reaching down to grab his prosthetic. "First things first."

"Okay, okay," he chuckles. Then he frowns a bit, as if he hasn't realized until now how late it is. "Wait, did we miss breakfast?"

"Now you're talking crazy," I reply, tossing him the prosthetic… and the underwear he discarded during the night. "But make it quick and we might have time to come back up here between breakfast and lunch."

"Bossy, bossy," he grins, tossing the comforter aside to put prosthetic, and underwear, back on.

I avert my eyes, pretending to be looking for my own underwear. Having our first sexual experience together happen in the dark definitely had its perks. I don't know if I'm quite ready to see Peeta's naked body in broad daylight just yet. At least not before breakfast. I give up the halfhearted quest to find my underwear and instead stick my feet inside the soft, blue slippers Cinna made for me. Then I feel Peeta's hands on my hips and his hot breath just beside my ear.

"Give me a moment to brush my teeth and I'll be right with you," he says, his voice a touch lower than normal, tugging at something primal within me. "Why don't you go downstairs and get breakfast ready?"

"It already is ready," I reply, turning my head to give him a kiss. "You've got three minutes, Mellark."

"Is this bossy side of you going to show up in bed, too?" he murmurs against my lips, giving me a light slap on my bottom before he walks to the bathroom. I stand there for a moment, not sure if I feel excited or uncomfortable or embarrassed by what he just implied. I realize I'm still smiling and, shaking my head at my own confusion, head out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

By the time Peeta comes down the stairs I'm pouring hot water into our mugs, adding a sugar lump to my tea and leaving Peeta's without. The sandwiches and eggs are laid out on two plates and the glasses of orange juice sit right beside the tea mugs.

"Looks great," offers Peeta, grabbing his orange juice and downing half the glass in four long gulps. He sets the glass back down and leans in to give me a kiss. "Thank you, dear. I'm famished."

"Dear?" I echo, taking a seat at the table. The endearment makes me feel a bit uncomfortable. "Is that what you're going to be calling me now? Sounds a little… old-fashioned, doesn't it?"

"Well Haymitch kind of has claimed  _sweetheart,_ " replies Peeta, sitting down opposite me. " _Dear_  is what my father used to call my mother."

I give him a look.

"Please don't call me that, then."

"Okay," he chuckles, taking a big bite from his sandwich. He seems to ponder the matter while he chews. He swallows, then uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. "What would you prefer then? Sugar? Honey-pot? Pumpkin?" He makes a face. "Yeah, I think I'll stick to calling you Katniss for now."

"Please do, until you can come up with something that isn't food related," I smirk, peeling my egg.

"Actually I think food related endearments fit you perfectly," he replies.

I smile and shake my head a little before taking a big bite from my sandwich. I'm starving and it only takes a few minutes for me to wolf down breakfast. Peeta seems to be just as hungry as I am because our late breakfast is almost completely without conversation. As soon as we're both finished he gives me a look that stirs a pleasant feeling inside of me.

"Thanks for breakfast," he says. "Now let's get back upstairs…"

The suggestion makes me strangely nervous and unsure and I cross my legs, suddenly remembering that I'm not wearing underwear and feeling oddly relieved that Peeta can't see below my waist while I'm sitting at the table.

"It's almost time for lunch," I say. "We should eat lunch first. I don't know about you but breakfast didn't make me full."

His facial expression quickly changes from alluring to apologetic.

"Oh, Katniss, I'm sorry," he says. "Are you feeling sore? Listen, ignore what I said before, I can wait a while to… I mean, we don't have to…"

I can't seem to make sense of my emotions today because as soon as he says those words, I feel disappointed at the thought of not having sex again today. I reach out my hand and place it on top of his.

"No…" I tell him. "I mean, yes, I am a bit sore, but it's not too bad. And I want us to go back upstairs, it's just…" I arrange my face in what I hope is a seductive look. "I really am still hungry and it's almost time for lunch and… I don't want anything to interrupt us when we go back upstairs. Let's make something quick to eat and then I'm all yours."

His features relax and the smile returns to his face. He stands up and I get up with him, already going over what we have at home that will be quick to cook for lunch. Peeta pulls me close and wraps his arms around me.

"That's all I've ever wanted," he says sweetly, his tone so soft that it seems to resonate in my heart. "All I've ever dreamed of… You."

"I'm all yours," I whisper in his ear, reveling in how amazing it feels to be in his embrace, feel his scent, hear his voice in my ear. I close my eyes for a second and sigh happily. I never knew it could feel this great to give myself over to somebody this way.

 

 

 

It's just after one in the afternoon when Peeta and I head back up the stairs and into the bedroom. I hesitate for a moment, not quite sure how we're supposed to proceed from this point. Last night we were already in bed so it seemed natural to just kiss each other and move forward from there. Now we have to begin by getting into bed and I'm suddenly not sure if we should try to arrange the comforter and pillows first or if Peeta wants us to throw the comforter over the chair where the bedspread sits, neatly folded. While I stand in the doorway pondering this Peeta walks over to the windows and pull up the blinds.

"Wait, what are you doing?" I ask.

"It's past noon," says Peeta. "And a lovely day outside, it seems. It feels weird to have the blinds down at this hour and besides, I prefer natural lighting to electric lights." He says the last part with a suggestive eyebrow raised but I frown and cross my arms over my chest.

"It feels weird," I protest. "Someone could see us."

"Who?" questions Peeta with a chuckle. "The only other person living in the Victors Village is Haymitch and for one he lives two houses down and for another he's not six meters tall. We can close the window though, if you feel more comfortable with that."

The memory of some of the sounds I made during the night makes me blush and I look away, nodding slowly.

Peeta closes the window quickly and then moves to the bed, stopping for a moment to ponder what to do with the sheets. He leans over and grabs the pillows, arranging them the way we place them when we go to bed. Then he takes the comforter and gives it a shake as if to make the bed, making me wonder if he thinks we should do this on top of the bedspread. I watch without a word as he folds it neatly on the long side, leaving most of the bed uncovered while the comforter lays folded on the right side of the bed. Peeta's side of the bed.

"You okay?" he then asks me and I realize I've been standing here in silence, not moving from the doorway.

"Yeah," I say.

"It's okay to be nervous," he says gently. "So long as you're not uncomfortable. If you are then we-"

"I'm fine," I say, my tone almost sharp. It's strange that I can go back and forth between nervousness and excitement so many times but I'll be damned if I let my nerves get the best of me now. I've already had sex – twice even – and engaging in the act for the very first time is what's supposed to be the nerve-wrecking part for a beginner like me. Having sex again, in broad daylight, letting my partner really see my body shouldn't be a challenge. It's not that I've never been naked in front of anyone before. But this is the first time I'll be naked and on display for Peeta, and he's the first person I've wanted to like the sight of me. He's supposed to be spending the next ten, fifteen, twenty minutes enjoying my body, and I can't bear it if that enjoyment doesn't include his feelings towards my nakedness.

Gathering my courage I walk over to the bed, get up on it and lay down. Peeta climbs up with me, keeping his prosthetic on, and stands on his knees beside me. Before I can think or feel too much I sit up and pull the t-shirt over my head, tossing it over the comforter and down on the floor. Then I lay back down and let out a trembling breath.

It takes me a few seconds but then I finally dare to look up at Peeta. When I see the look in his eyes I relax a little because while I can't completely read the look on his face it definitely doesn't seem to be one of disapproval.

"Perfect…" he says so low that I barely hear him. "Just… perfect, Katniss."

"I'm not perfect" I object. "I'm scarred and bony and I'm not voluptuous, and…" I worry my bottom lip between my teeth.  _Not good enough_  is what passes through my head.  _Not what you deserve_.

"Yeah but it's you," says Peeta. "You know? Not some dolled up Capitol-approved version of you, tailored to appeal to the crowds. It's you, the way life has formed you. Even with skin grafts and scars it's natural. It's beautiful."

Before I can think of a reply he leans down over me and takes one of my nipples in his mouth. I let out a gasp, feeling his hand trail from my chest down my body. I close my eyes and eagerly wait to feel his hand continue down between my legs but all of a sudden his hand stops and his mouth leaves my breast. I open my eyes and look at him, confused and slightly disappointed but feeling good and relaxed at the same time.

"Is it okay if I just take a moment to… look at you?" he asks. "I've been wanting to see you like this since… well, since puberty, pretty much."

"Yeah," I say softly. Once again he has worked his magic, making my worry start to melt away. "Look all you want."  _It's all yours, anyway_ , I add in my mind, though I'm a touch too shy to speak the words out loud. I will say it to him, just not this particular moment.

His eyes trail slowly over my body, his fingertips grazing lightly where he's looking. The light touch and the look in his eyes makes my heart beat faster and the hunger and longing build inside of me. I have completely forgotten about feeling nervous or self-conscious when he moves further down on the bed and with one hand on each of my knees slowly moves my legs apart. At that moment all my nerves come rushing back because there can't be any way that the way I look down there is  _appealing_. Reflexively I try to close my legs but Peeta shifts and places himself between them. His hands are still on my knees and I close my eyes, feeling too self-conscious right now to be able to look at him.

He doesn't speak a word. After a moment I feel his hands sliding up my legs and I hear him shifting again. His hands move up over my stomach and then I feel his tongue on me. I'm so surprised by the action, and by how good it feels, that my eyes shoot open and I let out a strangled cry.

"Just relax, precious…" he says soothingly. "Tell me if it's not okay, if you want me to stop."

I look down at him and the sight is quite bizarre yet strangely arousing. He's lying on his stomach, each of my knees resting over his shoulders, his face right at the juncture of my legs. He looks back at me but every couple of seconds his eyes dart down, as if he can't get enough of what I can't imagine is anything but a very strange sight.

"You don't have to stop," I manage to get out. "It's all okay. I trust you."

The next thing I know his mouth is on me and I reach down a hand, grabbing a hold of his ashen curls, leaning my head back and exhaling in a tremble.

 

 

 

We seem to lose track of time in the days that follow. We spend most of our time in bed, only going downstairs to get something to eat. We have sex, we sleep in each other's arms, we talk at length about a hundred different topics. With each passing day we grow more comfortable, bolder and more in tune to one another. There's quite a bit of awkward fumbling at first but soon enough we figure out how to coordinate our bodies and our movements and it feels like lovemaking gets better with each time.

I realize there are a lot of things I didn't know about Peeta. Specifically, things I didn't know about his body. The way his hands feel when they touch every part of me. The way his kind blue eyes seem to grow darker with lust. The deep, throaty sounds he makes during intercourse. The way he feels under my touch. The way his frantic thrusts turn into a gentle rocking when it's at its best for him. How much I love the look on his face in those moments. The way his weight feels on top of me. Which parts of his body are the most sensitive to my touch and how he seems to be able to so effortlessly find spots on my body that I never knew could feel so good to have touched.

I honestly don't know how many days we spend like this. All I know is that when Peeta opens the kitchen cabinet and declares that we don't have any real food left in the house it feels too soon. I'm sitting perched up on the kitchen table, wearing my bathrobe and nothing more, having not bothered with real clothes for days. Peeta closes the cabinet and says the words I don't want to hear, that we have to leave the house and head to town to buy more food. I knew we would have to leave our happy bubble eventually, if for no other reason than to let Haymitch know that we are still alive, but now that the time has come that we need to return to the world outside our house I feel strangely uncomfortable.

Peeta walks up to me, seeming all business today.

"Do you want to go out hunting?" he asks. "I'm going to head into town and buy some flour and sugar and yeast. Anything else you want?"

"Yes," I answer, pulling him close and wrapping my legs around his waist. The bathrobe falls open, leaving my front bare. "You."

For the first time in what feels like forever he doesn't respond by initiating sex, despite my chest and center being pressed up against his skin. He really is all business today.

"I was thinking more along the lines of potatoes and milk."

"That can wait," I say, running my hands up and down his bare back, letting my fingers dip inside his underwear briefly, teasingly.

"Not really," he replies, looking over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. "Market closes in about an hour and… Katniss pay attention."

"I am paying attention," I purr in his ear. I suck his earlobe into my mouth and then place a string of kisses from his ear down to his neck. "I'm paying attention to you."

"And it's lovely," he says, his resolve faltering a bit. "But seriously, I have to leave real soon if I want to make it to market in time."

"We can go tomorrow." I hook my right leg over my left and pull him in even closer, pressing our bodies together. "I don't think we'll have time to buy everything we'll need at the market if it closes in an hour. Better to wait, go early tomorrow morning."

Peeta's hand lands on my chin and gently nudges my face away from his neck. For a split second I feel the horrible sting of rejection coursing through me but then his lips are on mine and I open my mouth to let his tongue in. He kisses me slowly, thoroughly, the hand that's not on my cheek finding its way to the small of my back, pressing me even closer.

"Damn, Katniss," he breathes against my lips when the kiss ends. "I never knew you were so… insatiable."

"I never knew that either," I reply, causing us both to chuckle. "It's all your fault, just so you know."

"And you win," he says, grinning at me. "But if you're not going to let me go buy food then you're going to have to  _sate_  me some other way."

I grin back at him and nudge for him to step aside so that I can get down from the table. When he doesn't move I frown, hoping he's not going to tease me now. One of the things I've discovered about him in these past few days is that he very much enjoys teasing me for the longest time, driving me to the point of such frustration that it borders on anger. It's always worth it when release finally comes but right now I'm definitely not in the mood for prolonged teasing. I want to be upstairs, in bed, within a minute or two and I want to be the one on top, making sure that he can't tease me too much.

"Peeta," I say in a slightly whiny tone. "Let's go upstairs already."

"Who said anything about going upstairs?" he replies, raising an eyebrow.

"Peeta," I complain.

He pushes me back, making me lie on the table, my legs still loosely wrapped around him. My bathrobe has fallen open completely and he hungrily gazes at my body but I'm too self-aware to like what is happening.

"Peeta! What if someone sees? Can we go back upstairs?"

"I don't care if anyone sees," he replies in a husky voice.

And in just a few moments, I really cannot bring myself to care, either.

 

 

 

The following day I decide to walk into town with Peeta instead of going out to the woods to hunt. We don't need meat right now, there's still some turkey left in our freezer box, and the thought of going out and killing animals doesn't quite rhyme with the kind of bliss I've been experiencing these past days. Not when we don't need new meat on the table today. Once the turkey has been eaten, then I'll go hunt.

My arm is linked with Peeta's when we leave the house and begin our walk into town. There's a cool breeze in the air, a first sign that summer is nearing its end and autumn is coming. It feels strange to be outside again, breathing fresh air. We really have been in our own little bubble lately.

We don't talk much as we walk, both of us lost in our own thoughts. As the town begins to come into view I get a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, one that's not entirely comfortable. We haven't been out among people in a while, not since a week or two before our first romantic night together. And we haven't been to town together in well over a month, nor have we been holding hands or linking arms out in public since… well, since the Quell I guess. I begin to feel uncomfortable at the thought that people might stare. The lust for gossip has returned to Twelve now that the place has been mostly cleaned up from the bombings and the town is being rebuilt. Seeing Peeta and me out together, the star-crossed lovers in each other's company, is bound to be fodder for juicy gossip.

The strange feeling in my chest grows stronger as we come closer and closer to the populated area. Just as we're about to walk on to the main road that leads from town to the borders of the district I stop and pull my arm away from Peeta's.

"Why don't you head on to the market," I suggest, using both hands to pull loose strands of hair away from my face and tuck them behind my ears, sort of as an alibi for no longer linking my arm with his. "I'm going to stop by Calpurnia's and ask if she wants some fresh game later this week."

Calpurnia is the new butcher who moved here from District Two at the beginning of summer. Her husband, a former peacekeeper, imports tools from their home district and I've struck a deal with them since a couple of months back. I bring Calpurnia game she can sell and her husband Crito provides me with new arrows and every now and then a new and sharp knife.

"Okay," says Peeta, shrugging his shoulder casually. "Come to the market when you're done. I'll probably be there for a while." He takes a few steps in the direction of the market, then stops and turns around. "Oh, could you ask Crito if he could import some aluminum bowls and baking tins?"

"Sure," I say.

He flashes me a smile and then continues on his way. As he walks away I struggle with two conflicting emotions – one that doesn't want him to leave and one that is relieved that we won't arrive at the market together and be seen by everyone out shopping. For the moment the first feeling is stronger. Peeta hasn't been this far away from me in weeks it seems and I feel a sense of loss, a palpable confirmation that our secluded time together is over and it's time to face the real world and be out in public. I just wish I wasn't so uncomfortable outing our togetherness to everyone.

 

 

 

It only takes me twenty minutes to stop by the butcher shop and strike a deal with Calpurnia. She gets first selection of whatever game I bring home the next time I go out hunting and in return her husband will try to get a hold of the goods Peeta asked for. Before I leave the shop I get a nudge and a wink from Calpurnia about how I am buying things for him and I wish I could stop the uncomfortable knot in the pit of my stomach but I can't.

Once I'm back out on the street I walk slowly towards the marketplace. It's located where the town square used to be, only now the open space is twice as big as it was before. The only building in that area that survived somewhat intact was the Justice Building, no doubt left alone so it could stand as an example of how the Capitol would always prevail against us petty rebels. It didn't quite turn out that way and I wish they would tear the building down but instead it's being redone to serve as a City Hall. President Paylor is a very strong advocate for symbolism and she feels that taking a building that the Capitol used to oppress us and turning it into an administrative headquarter for the new, free regime sends a very strong message. I don't care about things like that. To me that building will always mean oppression and fear and my father's funeral and my first hour after volunteering for the Games.

I wonder if today is Saturday or Sunday, because the street I'm on is crowded with people, far too many people to be a regular work day. I haven't given any thought at all before to what day of the week it might be – it simply hasn't mattered to me because I don't have a job to go to. Perhaps we ought to buy a calendar and try to keep track of the days.

I'm not sure how I will go about finding Peeta amongst the crowd and the many booths at the marketplace so I decide to not even try. There's nothing I want to buy, really, I'll be fine with whatever food he wants to get. I walk over to an almost completed house that will probably be someone's residence when it's finished and I take a seat on the stone steps that lead from the street to the door. The stones are hot from the sunlight but not so hot that it burns me. It feels rather nice, in fact, and so I lean back against the wooden walls of the house and stretch my legs out in front of me. The air is definitely starting to get chillier but the sun is still warm above and I close my eyes and tilt my face towards the sky, pleased to absorb whatever light and warmth I can after so many days indoors.

"Katniss?"

The familiar voice makes me open my eyes again. I squint and cover my eyes with my hand, my vision a little bit blurry for a few seconds. Then I see them. Vick and Posy, standing just a few feet away together with a woman I've never seen before and three children I don't recognize. I assume the woman is a new friend of the Hawthorne family and that the three unfamiliar children belong to her but it's the sight of Gale's siblings that gets my interest and attention.

"Hey," I manage to get out. I rise from my seat and brush the dust from my pants. "I didn't know you were back in Twelve!"

"We've been back almost two months," says Vick.

I smile half-heartedly. Almost two months? Seems like I ought to have known if they had been back for that long but I haven't bothered to find out. I guess I just assumed they would go with Gale to District Two.

"Is the whole family here?" I ask, trying to sound casual.

"Except for Gale," answers Vick. His tone is cheerful but there's an undertone of something else. Sadness, a younger brother missing his oldest brother, the one who always provided for them and took care of them.

"He's got a great job, I hear," I say, not sure what else to say.

"Yeah," says Vick, his eyes trailing down at his feet.

"So," I say, attempting to sound upbeat. "Who's this? Shouldn't you introduce me?"

Vick hastily introduces the woman and her children. Her name is Shine and she came here from District One around the same time as the Hawthorne family returned. Her husband died during the war and she chose to move here to get as far away from their home district as she could, trying to escape the bad memories. She lives next-door to Hazelle and the kids and the two broken families have become quite close since they got here.

"Are you still living in the Victors' Village?" asks Vick.

There's a touch of disapproval in his tone. Something he picked up from Gale, I presume. I wonder if it seems inappropriate to people that I'm still in the fancy house I won in the Games while everyone else is building a new home form the ground up. Maybe the Mockingjay ought to live amongst the common people and turn her back against everything that has to do with the Games. But even if that house is merely a gilded cage keeping me trapped in Snow's world to some degree I have no desire to make a new home elsewhere. The Victor's Village is my home now. The place where my family is. I would like nothing more than to stay there for the rest of my days with Peeta and Haymitch as the only other human beings living nearby.

"Yes, I still live there," I answer Vick.

"What about the other houses?" asks Shine. "What will they be used for?"

I frown, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. I don't like that a perfect stranger starts to ask me questions like that.

"I don't know," I say. "I don't really care, either." I turn my attention back to Vick and Posy. "How is your mother?"

We stand there for a few minutes, talking about Hazelle and about their new home three blocks away from where their old one used to be. Posy mentions Gale twice. I let the mentioning of his name slip by without reacting to it but Vick gives his sister an irritated nudge the second time and it feels like the conversation becomes more stilted after that. I've known Vick and Posy for years. I've practically watched Posy grow up – she was only a baby when I first began hunting together with Gale. They've been a bit like an extended family over the years but right now it seems so clear that those ties were never fully binding. They were all hitched on Gale and me being close friends and now that we're not it seems unlikely that I will remain close with his mother and his siblings.

I jump slightly when I feel a hand at the small of my back. I turn around and see Peeta, cradling a large brown paper bag with the hand that's not on me. There's that strange, unpleasant feeling again. It bothers me that it arrived with Peeta. I can feel a part of me relax and a warm happy feeling in my chest now that he is near me again and that feeling doesn't rhyme with the discomfort.

"Hey Katniss," he says.

"Hey," I mumble, turning my head back to Vick and Posy, an explanation for how we surprisingly ran into each other at the tip of my tongue. It dies when I see the looks on the children's faces. Posy bites her bottom lip and looks down. Vick looks irritated, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Vick, right?" says Peeta in a friendly tone. "And Posy?"

"I'm Posy," nods the girl enthusiastically, her discomfort from a moment ago seemingly gone.

"Good to see you again," says Peeta.

"I'm Shine," says the District One woman, extending a hand to Peeta.

"Pleasure to meet you," says Peeta. He begins to introduce himself but she cuts him off, chuckling that everyone already knows who he is.

"Right," mumbles Peeta, seeming to feel a bit awkward.

"What's in the bag?" asks Posy, her interest always woken by things that might contain food, even though they don't seem to be starving nowadays.

"Groceries," answers Peeta. "I've been to the marketplace. I needed some food and some ingredients to bake bread."

"Are you going to bake bread with Katniss?" asks Posy.

"I don't know if letting Katniss near the baking is such a good idea," chuckles Peeta good-naturedly, ignoring my glare.

"Posy stop bothering him," says Vick sharply, but his tone suggests that he doesn't want his sister interacting with his brother's rival whether it's a bother or not.

"She's not bothering me," Peeta shrugs anyway.

"Are you Katniss' boyfriend now?" asks Posy.

I feel that uncomfortable knot in my belly again, twisting slightly. Why does it sound so strange coming from an innocent child's mouth? Why does it feel almost wrong, like the word is one I want to avoid?

"Now that's an interesting question," says Shine, raising an eyebrow and putting an arm around her oldest child who seems to want to hurry on and leave already. "Now that you're both back in the district… Old love rekindled?"

It should be a simple question to answer but all of my instincts are telling me to hide the truth. The question was directed to me but I don't want to risk Peeta answering in my place so I quickly blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

"We faked the whole star-crossed lovers thing." I feel my cheeks burning red with embarrassment and shame.

Shine looks disappointed and there's a part of me that hates her for that, hates her for sticking her nose into something that's absolutely none of her business. There are no more Hunger Games. Peeta and I are no longer properties of the public eye. Whether we are lovers or enemies or strangers it is none of this woman's business.

"Oh," says Shine. "So you're not a couple, then?"

"No," I say, my mouth feeling very dry all of a sudden.

"Katniss…" says Posy, pulling at my arm. "Will you come home with us?"

"Yeah, you should come home with us," says Vick, more relaxed now. "Mom would love to see you."

I hesitate. What I want to do is go back home and seclude myself in another bubble with Peeta but I know that what I just said might take some explaining. I look over at him and find that he seems totally fine, not upset in the slightest.

"Well, I…" I begin, not quite sure whether to decline the offer or not.

"Come home with us," begs Posy. "Just for a moment. It would be fun!"

"It probably would be," says Peeta in a completely normal tone. "As for me, I'm heading home. Got to get some of these groceries in the fridge. I'll see you guys later."

He begins to walk and each step takes him further away from me and I don't want that. I want to go catch up to him, help him carry the groceries, be in his presence and feel the scent of him. But before I can decide what excuse to give as to why I can't come and visit the Hawthorne family Posy's little hand is in mine and she's leading me in the direction of their new home. I look over my shoulder as we walk, wishing I was heading in the other direction but at least having the relief of knowing that Peeta understood why I said the things I said a few moments ago.

 

 

 

I don't stay very long with Hazelle and the children. It feels off right from the moment I step through the door. Our dynamic has changed, probably irrevocably, and it feels awkward being there. I sit at the small kitchen table and drink a glass of water with Hazelle and Rory while Posy begs for my attention every two minutes to show me something in their small house. We talk politely about what they are doing now, what has happened with them between the war ending and us meeting today and a little bit about Gale's new job. I don't volunteer any deeper information about my life these days. It seems better to stick to the basics and tell them that I'm still in my Victor's house, slowly putting my life back together in something resembling order.

When I head home I end up getting lost on the way through town. Very few of the landmarks I remember from before the war are there now, most having been blown to pieces during the bombing. When they began rebuilding they changed a lot and the old familiar streets are mostly gone now. What should have been a ten minute walk through the town ends up taking me almost half an hour.

Once I'm on the road back to the Victor's Village I begin to relax. Soon I will be in my own house, in my own environment, and Peeta will be there. I will get to wrap myself in his embrace, inhale the scent of his body and his hair and feel his lips against my skin. With him I no longer have to put on a performance or be anything other than who I am. We are so far past the point of pretending and putting up a façade for each other.

I reach my house, finding Buttercup sitting outside the front door waiting to be let in. He's starting to look more robust now after a few months of regular feedings but his coat is still ragged and rather unappealing to me. Still we get along much better now and I have to admit it's rather homely to have a cat around.

"Peeta?" I call when I step inside, closing the door behind me. "I'm home."

A smile plays on my lips as I think back on how my mother used to smile when she heard my father's footsteps on the front porch and how he used to announce to her that he had come home when he stepped inside. Just like my father used to do with my mother I can't wait to find Peeta and give him a kiss and see the smile on his face.

"Peeta!" I call again, kicking off my boots. I think back to a conversation we had that first morning after making love. It's strange but I have this urge to call out an endearment rather than just say his name. The idea itself seems ludicrous since we've only been romantic for a short while and I never thought of myself as a person who would use endearments for a partner. Maybe there is a traditional and domestic side to me after all.

I walk into the kitchen expecting to find him there but the kitchen is empty. Slowly I walk through the kitchen and into the sitting room.

"Peeta?"

No sign of him here either. I start to get an unpleasant feeling in the pit of my stomach. Then a noise comes from upstairs and I turn my head in the direction of the hall and the stairwell, letting out a small, relieved laugh. Is he upstairs waiting for me? In bed? That would be the perfect welcoming home after we've spent our first hours apart since upgrading our relationship to romantic.

I walk to the hallway and stop in front of the mirror there, critically judging my appearance. My hair looks rather messy so I quickly run my fingers through it. The rest of me looks quite okay, if I do say so myself. Never mind the damaged skin or that the figure is still quite flat and lacking of womanly curves. There is a blush on my cheeks and a kind of glint in my eyes that I've never known myself to have before. The thought of what Peeta and I might be doing a few minutes from now makes that blush even deeper. I know I can't wait to feel his lips and his hands and his skin again, nor can I wait to hear him make those sounds that only I can produce out of him.

Hurriedly I walk up the stairs, not bothering to be quiet and subtle. He knows I'm home. I reach the top of the stairs and stop for a moment to adjust my clothing. Then I walk up to the bedroom door and use my foot to push it fully open.

The smile goes away the moment I see that the room is empty. There's no Peeta on the bed, waiting for me to come home. Disappointment and worry rises in me and I cast a quick glance at the bathroom door, briefly wondering if perhaps he's in there. But the door is half open and no light is on inside.

I turn my eyes to the window where Buttercup is perched on the sill. Beneath the window lies a candle stick made from rock. It usually resides on the windowsill and it's easy to figure out what was the true source of the noise I heard and believed to be Peeta.

Not quite sure what to make of it all I walk over to the window and grab Buttercup. He meows in protest at being lifted from his resting place but at least he doesn't hiss at me like he used to do.

"You wouldn't happen to know where Peeta's gone to, would you?" I ask the cat. I look out the window and see Peeta's house further down the road. I'm fairly sure he's gone there, hopefully to get more clothes or something else he might need, but there's an unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach that I can't seem to get rid of. "You know, Buttercup… I don't think I like coming home and he's not here."

With a sigh I leave the bedroom and walk down the stairs, the cat still in my arms. I decide to give Peeta half an hour or so in case he really did go to his house only to pick something up. I don't want to make a big deal out of what might be nothing at all.

I just can't seem to get rid of the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach.

 

 

 

I wait exactly thirty minutes and then I head over to Peeta's house. Buttercup leaves with me but takes off in the direction of the woods, probably to hunt some mice since they seem to be his favorite prey these days. I walk briskly down the street until I've passed the few houses that are in-between mine and Peeta's. Yet another strange feeling is in the pit of my stomach as I approach his door and it makes me furious with myself. I hate feeling this way and this feeling doesn't seem like it belongs with what Peeta and I have created in these past few days together.

Forming a fist with my hand I knock three times and wait for an answer. None comes, so I try the door handle and find that it opens easily.

"Peeta?" I call out as I walk slowly inside the house. I've never really been to this house before, never for more than a quick visit. It feels strange to be here, almost as if I'm trespassing. Perhaps I am.

I call Peeta's name twice more and get no answer. I stop on the threshold of the kitchen, my eyes trailing over the kitchen island, the stovetop, the checkered black and white countertop. I remember Peeta mentioning once that he hates that checkered countertop, that he always puts some kind of baking sheet over it when he's working. The kitchen looks lonely, if that's something you can call a room. It's clean and neat, just like Peeta, but my eyes land on the dish drainer and it's got just the one glass, one plate and one pair of cutlery. It must have been sitting there for a while but the sight brings a pain to my heart, like a quick jab with a needle. I think of the sixteen year-old boy who moved in here alone, plagued by nightmares and trying to cope with what he had been through. I think of all the meals he had here alone but I have to force the image out of my head because I don't like how it makes me feel inside.

Then I hear a noise coming from the sitting room and I turn my head in that direction. So he's home after all?

"Peeta?" I call again. "Peeta…"

Slowly, tentatively, I cross the kitchen and head to the sitting room. He's there, arranging wood from the rack by the fireplace, stacking them to start up a fire. He obviously knows I'm here, he would have to be deaf to miss my voice calling for him several times, but he doesn't look up.

"Peeta…" I say, my tone softer now. "Peeta what are you doing?"

"I'm starting a fire," he replies, eyes still on the task at hand.

"I can see that. Why?"

"That's an odd question." He finally seems pleased with the arrangement of the wood and rises, slowly, needing to grab on to the mantelpiece for balance. The wince that passes over his face as he shifts his weight reminds me of his prosthetic and how much it bothers him sometimes.

"It's not really an odd question," I say. "Why do you need a fire here?" The nervous knot in the pit of my stomach is back. "Aren't you coming back with me?"

"No," he answers, brushing dust off his pants.

The knot tightens.

"Why not?"

He walks over to the couch and takes a seat, reaching forward to pull the left pant leg up. The prosthetic must really be bothering him right now. He has a bit of trouble getting the denim fabric pulled up as far as he needs it and reflexively I begin to walk up to him to give him a hand.

"Here, let me help you with that."

"No, I've got it."

The tone is sharper than I've heard him use in the past few days and it makes me stop in my tracks. I feel a slight tremble through my body, and not a pleasant one.

"Peeta…"

"Why are you here, Katniss?" he asks, grunting a little as he finally gets the fabric up far enough that he can release the straps that keep his prosthetic in place.

"I came here… I came here because…" He gives me a brief glance, focusing his attention on adjusting the fake leg. I suddenly feel very insecure and uncomfortable. "We should get started on dinner. I'm hungry. So I came to get you… because you weren't at the house when I got back."

"I left half the supplies in your kitchen," he says, and a flood of worry washes over me.

"Why?" I ask. "I mean… Why isn't all of it in my kitchen? That's where we've been cooking our meals…"

He looks up at me and I can tell he's irritated, but his voice remains calm.

"I know. But I want to make dinner here, by myself."

I swallow. My voice trembles faintly when I speak.

"Why?"

"Because I want to be by myself tonight." He focuses on his prosthetic for a moment, readjusting it and wincing slightly as he straps it back on. "And please, don't ask me  _why_  at that, too."

"I guess I know why," I manage. "What I said earlier…"

"You've said a lot of things," he replies a little too casually. Clearly he has no intention of making this any easier on me.

"I mean, the things I said when we were in town. When Vick and Posy and that woman from One asked if we are a couple."

Peeta rises from the couch and takes a few steps away from me. It seems casual but I know there's something more underneath it. He's not as unbothered as he's trying to appear, that much is for sure. The real question is how much I've hurt him.

"You kind of took me by surprise," he says.

"I surprised myself, too," I admit. " _They_  surprised me. I wasn't prepared for the question. I…"

"You weren't prepared for the question?" He shakes his head, laughs a little, no trace of mirth in the sound. "Well, be sure to let me know when you are prepared to answer that question."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"You just… denied me. Right there, in front of those people. Brushed me aside as if I'm nothing and as if what has happened between us is nothing."

"It's not nothing," I say.

"Then why did it feel like that today?" He looks hurt and it makes me feel ashamed. Remembering how I felt when I was talking to Gale's family makes me feel even more so. "Katniss we've spent all this time sharing this wonderful thing but it's all been within the confinements if your house. The minute we stepped outside it seemed like it lost its significance in your eyes. For me it's real, very real, whether we are in bed or out on the streets or wherever! I thought it was to you too but I'm starting to believe that I've been wrong, and yet again so naïve."

"All of this based on one moment?" I say rather harshly, feeling defensive and more than a little worried.

"I don't feel safe!" exclaims Peeta. "Do you know how badly I've longed for safety, after everything that's been done to me? I need to be safe, I thought that I  _was_  safe with you, but today proves that I'm not."

"Peeta you're safe," I insist softly.

"How can you say that?" he asks. "Katniss look, I…" He runs both hands through his hair, grunting with frustration. "How do I know you won't leave? How do I know that I can depend on you?"

I huff a little, insulted by the insinuation that I'm not dependable. Maybe I'm not, where other people are concerned, but this is Peeta and me.

"How can you say something like that?" I ask with a scowl on my face. "After everything we've been through."

"Because you abandoned me," he says flatly. I feel myself recoil slightly at his words because as he says them I know they're true. "I came back from the Capitol tortured, broken, in such great pain and at a point where I needed somebody more than ever. And you turned away. Acted like I didn't matter at all anymore. When I joined the Star Squad you couldn't even conceal how displeased you were to see me."

"You tried to  _strangle_  me!" I retort sharply.

"I know! And I take responsibility for that, for what they did to me. Forget about the things I did or didn't do, we're not talking about that right now. We're talking about the fact that you turned away, slammed the door and left me behind. So did Haymitch, for that matter. I'm not saying you should have been reckless or put yourself at risk around me because I  _was_  a danger to you. But you did absolutely  _nothing_  to help me. Ran off and made out with Gale instead, I should assume."

I press my lips together hard, crossing my arms over my chest and averting my eyes. He's right, I did kiss Gale. I did discard the very thought of being with Peeta. But it's not like I didn't have a solid reason.

"You had been hijacked," I say. "I couldn't reach you."

"No, you never even tried," he says, a new venom in his voice. "My family was gone, my friends were all dead, all I had left was you and an old drunkard and both of you turned aside. I remember almost everything from those days in Thirteen, even though everyone seems to think my jumbled brain would fail to commit that part of my life to memory. I remember being taken from one prison to another, being handed over from one group of doctors to another. The first group tortured me and let me tell you, the second pretty much did too. All their treatments, they were just  _experiments_. Do you know how degrading and humiliating it is to be treated the way I was? Shackled, constantly watched over, always exposed. Just some rat in a cage for the district doctors to study. Having to be  _supervised_  every time I drew a picture, had something to eat, went to the bathroom! And you and Haymitch…" He pauses and shakes his head as if trying to clear his mind of the memories. "Look, forget it. Okay? It's not even relevant. All I'm trying to say here is that when I needed you the most you pushed me away and went about your life as if I no longer mattered. How can I know you won't do the same again, after what happened today? How can I feel safe with you when I don't know that you'll stand by me and be there for me even at my darkest hour? I still have moments when that… mutt inside of me takes over."

I flinch at his description of those moments. I used to think in similar terms myself before but now it hurts to think that even a small part of him can be mutt. There is no mutt. There's only Peeta.

"I know," I tell him. "I know and I accept that and I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't believe you," he says simply. Hearing him say it hurts in a way I didn't know I could hurt. There's a moment of silence before he continues. "I believed it after that first night… and every moment after that… until today. When you stood there out on the streets and seemed to be uncomfortable with my presence and you told those people that the idea of you and me together is just a ruse… I don't know, Katniss, I guess that moment just made me realize that nothing has really changed. And I was an idiot for thinking that it could."

"You weren't an idiot," I assure him.

"I was. You didn't stand by me today. I thought we were in love, both of us. But it doesn't count if it only happens when we are alone. I need you to care about me enough that being with me is something that matters very much to you. Instead you are ashamed of admitting that you like me and when asked about it by other people you deny it. Don't you realize how that makes me feel?"

I really don't know what is worse. The look in his eyes, or the sound of his voice right now, or the implication of what he's saying. That he, the person who means the most to me now, feels this bad because of me. I've never really made anybody hurt in this way before – at least not knowingly. It was different before, when there was Peeta and there was Gale and I didn't know what I felt, or at least couldn't admit to it. This is something else entirely. I made a commitment to Peeta by telling him I love him and he feels I've failed him.

"If you don't want to be in a relationship…" he says, "then don't be in one. I can wait for you, if what you need is time. But I can't be dismissed. I can't be your partner and lover only when it fits you."

"Peeta…" My tone is pleading. The thought of him walking away, of me losing this, is frightening. Far worse than frightening, in fact. I honestly don't believe I could survive it if I lost him again. Not now, not after the loss of Prim, not after havig gone through it with Peeta once before and therefore understand what it truly means, not after what has come to life between us. I can lose everything else, but not him. Never him.

"I don't want to be nobody in my beloved's life," Peeta says, in a tone that's almost pleading too.

"You're not," I answer. "You are everything. I… Peeta I know I screwed up today. I know I should have given a different answer. To tell you the truth it wasn't a spur of the moment thing. It was a decision, to tell them that we're nothing special to each other."

I can see him struggling to make sense of what I'm saying. I step closer to him and place a hand on his neck. The other reaches up to caress his cheek. He allows the touch, thank heavens.

"Katniss…" he says hesitantly.

"I just didn't want our lives to be public knowledge," I try to explain. "All those people, who are they to know about our true feelings? All they care about is the saga of the star-crossed lovers and that part  _was_  fake.  _This_  is real. It's real and it  _matters_  and I feel protective of it. Do you see? It's the first thing of true beauty that I've had in my life. It's precious to me. Who are they to get to take part in that? Who are they to get to have an opinion, whether it's good or bad? It's nobody's business but ours."

"But it can't exist only behind closed doors," he objects.

"No I know. But right now all they will see are the star-crossed lovers of District 12. We were both playing a role between our Games and I'm tired of it. What we have now is too important to me to be tainted by all the ugliness in our past. I just want…" I close my eyes for a second and see the image of my sister burning, the images of Snow and of Coin. My eyes open again and look into Peeta's. "I want a fresh start. Away from everyone else. I want to get a chance to figure this out between us before we become public property." My hands move downward until my arms are wrapped around Peeta's waist. "Darling, I'm in love. I feel so protective of that, and of you. I couldn't stand the thought of them being concerned for my safety since they know about the hijacking but not about your recovery. I couldn't stand the thought of them thinking of you that way. I know I handled it wrong, and that I still suck so badly at this."

Peeta chuckles at that, a slightly unsure sound but a chuckle nonetheless, and as I feel him start to relax my own body relaxes too. He rests his forehead against mine and I draw a shaking breath.

"You're not so bad at it," he offers generously.

"Sure I am. I hurt your feelings really bad today."

"And I over-reacted."

"Maybe, maybe not." His arms wrap around me and I pull him close for a proper hug. "I should have handled it differently. No matter what. I've hurt you enough in the past. I don't want to hurt you anymore."

"No,  _I_  feel bad," he responds. "I didn't give you a chance to explain. Come to think of it I didn't even ask you beforehand if you were okay with going public."

"I'm not ashamed of loving you," I tell him, needing him to truly know it. "I'm just really, really protective of it."

"I understand."

"You are not nobody," I whisper in his ear. "You are everything."

 

 

 

The fire cackles as it begins to get a hold of the firewood, spreading warmth and light and the feeling of home. I'm sitting on the floor, just a few feet away, leaning back against an armchair. It's not particularly cold, though it's the middle of winter. The fire is more for the sake of habit and because to both of us having a fire burning signals home. Peeta lays beside me, his head resting on my lap, his eyes mostly closed but every few minutes he opens them to look at the flames. He is tired. Exhausted, really, both mentally and physically.

Just about an hour ago he had his first flashback since our relationship began four months ago.

My hands play with the ashen curls on his head. Every now and then I run my right hand down over his shoulder and either trail down his arm or down his back in a gesture that used to mean comfort to me when my parents did it. I hope it comforts him now. More than anything I want to comfort him in this moment, his sadness and pain hurting me as well in ways I could never have imagined.

He's afraid. I know it without him having to tell me. He knew that no matter how wonderful the developments between us have been they wouldn't magically change what has happened to him and take away the lingering effects of the hijacking. He might never be free of it. He knows it and accepts it. But it torments him every time it happens, more so than I realized before today. It frightens him that he has that dark side to him now and it hurts him deeply that they were able to change him and take away part of what was so essentially Peeta. They gave him a darkness and a viciousness that even two Hunger Games couldn't do.

The flashback episodes drain him physically, as well as emotionally. I might never understand the amount of physical strength and restraint that it takes for him to hold the madness back, nor the inner struggle he goes through to not let the darkness take over. Before when these flashbacks have occurred he has gone back to his own house to be alone but not until today have I fully understood why. He is wholly spent now, wanting to do little more than sleep and try to forget and not wake up until it's a new day, one where he hasn't had a flashback. Today I've seen first-hand how it affects him. It breaks my heart to see him so anguished over the dark memories that come over him, memories that are so frightening that I know he might never share them with me. I don't even know for sure if I want him to. While there's a part of me that wants to know everything about him there is also that part of me that doesn't know if I can live with the details of what they put him through.

He wanted to go back to his own house today, too. When it's happened before I haven't protested but today I insisted that he stay and since he doesn't have the energy right now to argue with me he gave in. I'm very thankful that he did. It's important to me to get to prove to him that he can feel safe with me and that I will take care of him when he's at his lowest point. I can't do much for him except love him and be a soft place for him to fall but I think that perhaps he doesn't need more than that from me. He is not alone and I will not turn aside anymore.

I feel such a deep hatred for Snow and for each and every person who laid as much as a finger on Peeta when he was a prisoner. I wish I could take my vengeance on everyone who in any way participated in his torture and the images that I sometimes conjure in my mind scare me a little. It makes me think of Gale and how he was willing to trap people in the Nut and how he played a role in my sister's death. He never intended for Prim to be hurt but that doesn't change the fact that he thought up something designed only to kill people. Peeta has his darkness but I have mine as well, a darkness which I shared with Gale on some level but thankfully never gave in to. I don't think I have it in me to give in to it anymore. Looking back I realize that at some point I came to a fork in the road where I could choose between letting anger and bitterness overshadow everything else or doing my best to let go of those things and focus on what good there is in my life. The boy who lies with his head on my lap is all the proof I need that I made the right choice.

It fascinates me how the way I feel about him continues to evolve and to grow. Every day it seems like it couldn't get any stronger yet I'm beginning to understand that I'm only at the very beginning of where these emotions could go, merely scratching the surface. The thought of how I might be feeling a year from now, ten years from now, a lifetime from now makes me smile and makes me feel like I can't wait. When was the last time I looked forward to my future?

Peeta opens his eyes again and sighs heavily. I continue to stroke his hair and despite the day we've had I realize I'm still feeling happy. It's the fact that he's here and I get to touch him and see him and enjoy him. I feel a strong need for him but at the moment it's not sexual, like it tends to be a lot these days. Right now I enjoy this more, thinking that maybe it's proof of something more profound than any physical needs.

"I'm sorry about today," Peeta mumbles.

"It's okay," I say softly, lovingly.

"No, it's not."

"It's like with my nightmares," I say. "It feels like a curse to have to live with it but I know it's not my fault that I have them. And you always comfort me when I have a nightmare. I will always comfort you when you've had a flashback."

His hand reaches up and finds mine, grasping it tight. He closes his eyes.

"Don't leave me," he pleads.

"No," I say soothingly. "That's not a mistake I will make again. I could never leave you." For a brief second I feel a chill run through me and I swallow to try and get rid of it. "No one will ever hurt you again. I won't allow it."

"You're mine."

It's a question or a plea more than a statement.

"And you're mine," I answer.

He sighs again and closes his eyes. I feel him relax and I close my own eyes for a second and feel a bit more relaxed too. The evil that has hurt Peeta in the past can't reach him anymore. We are together. Here, with me, he can be safe and sound.

**Author's Note:**

> I re-wrote the final scene two times, and the versions are completely different. Interestingly enough the story also had a different title until I wrote this version of the final scene.
> 
> What Peeta says about not wanting to be nobody in his beloved's life is lovingly borrowed from Jonas Gardell's "Don't Ever Wipe Tears Without Gloves". I remembered the line while writing this story and it seemed so fitting.
> 
> I hope Katniss doesn't come off as too bad. The idea I was going for is that she's rather shy about her deepest emotions and doesn't feel comfortable telling everybody about them. Especially not at a point where she and Peeta haven't had "the talk" yet. That, and what she said herself here about feeling protective.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!


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